So powerful a combination of bigot, self-seeking demagogue, and astute politician was fraught with grave menace to the peace of the state and the liberties of the people,—­by which is meant the whole people, and not any one class, sought to be built up at the expense of another.

X

DELAMERE PLAYS A TRUMP

Carteret did not forget what General Belmont had said in regard to Tom.  The major himself had been young, not so very long ago, and was inclined toward indulgence for the foibles of youth.  A young gentleman should have a certain knowledge of life,—­but there were limits.  Clara’s future happiness must not be imperiled.

The opportunity to carry out this purpose was not long delayed.  Old Mr. Delamere wished to sell some timber which had been cut at Belleview, and sent Tom down to the Chronicle office to leave an advertisement.  The major saw him at the desk, invited him into his sanctum, and delivered him a mild lecture.  The major was kind, and talked in a fatherly way about the danger of extremes, the beauty of moderation, and the value of discretion as a rule of conduct.  He mentioned collaterally the unblemished honor of a fine old family, its contemplated alliance with his own, and dwelt upon the sweet simplicity of Clara’s character.  The major was a man of feeling and of tact, and could not have put the subject in a way less calculated to wound the amour propre of a very young man.

Delamere had turned red with anger while the major was speaking.  He was impulsive, and an effort was required to keep back the retort that sprang once or twice to his lips; but his conscience was not clear, and he could not afford hard words with Clara’s guardian and his grandfather’s friend.  Clara was rich, and the most beautiful girl in town; they were engaged; he loved her as well as he could love anything of which he seemed sure; and he did not mean that any one else should have her.  The major’s mild censure disturbed slightly his sense of security; and while the major’s manner did not indicate that he knew anything definite against him, it would be best to let well enough alone.

“Thank you, major,” he said, with well-simulated frankness.  “I realize that I may have been a little careless, more from thoughtlessness than anything else; but my heart is all right, sir, and I am glad that my conduct has been brought to your attention, for what you have said enables me to see it in a different light.  I will be more careful of my company hereafter; for I love Clara, and mean to try to be worthy of her.  Do you know whether she will be at home this evening?”

“I have heard nothing to the contrary,” replied the major warmly.  “Call her up by telephone and ask—­or come up and see.  You’re always welcome, my boy.”